You'll Never Leave Here Alive
by bookstvnerdlove
Summary: AU. When Mr. Gold asked for her help tracking down one Killian Jones, Emma had no idea it would lead to this.


**Disclaimer: Not ABC. Own Nothing. Adam and Eddy's characters give me life. **

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**_Part I_**

_Fuck it's hot._ Emma can already feel the sweat just dripping down the front of her shirt and she immediately regrets her clothing choices. (She knew Texas was hot in the summertime, but damn, she didn't expect the air to feel this thick.)

She strips down into her camisole and looks at her jeans, regretting that she didn't bring at least one skirt with her. But skirts are impractical for running (though she's done it before). Not to mention, as she considers her surroundings, she's been here a week and from the looks of it this little town would be suspicious if she looked even slightly dressed up. But, hey, that means her beat up yellow bug fits right in.

She wonders for the zillionth time just what the hell some English (or Irish, or _whatever_ he is) guy ended up in the middle of nowhere Texas, working at some barbecue joint, but she supposes it doesn't really matter how he ended up here. Not as long as he returns to New York with her where her paycheck awaits.

She's been cursing the fact that she took this job for weeks now, but when Mr. Gold approached her, she couldn't resist the amount of money he was offering to find this guy. It wasn't her typical job, just finding somebody, no questions asked. Usually she likes to focus on perps, people already wanted by the law. She doesn't much care about what they're wanted for; she just hates it when people skip out on their responsibilities.

(She remembers her final foster family, back when she was sixteen. There were three other kids there, the parents appeared clean-cut and had jobs, and a real house that was huge compared to what she was used to. They took their monthly money and provided food in the house, which honestly was better than other places she'd been in. But they were just never there. And even though she'd been in the system long enough to not be surprised, they made her so angry. They weren't used up old folks just trying to get by; they weren't drug addicts looking for a paycheck score more. They provided clean sheets and a roof in a safe neighborhood, and food. But their souls were _blank_. That was the last house she ever lived in.)

Exiting her car and making her way down the dusty street, the passes by a line of people waiting outside the door to the local barbecue joint and she can feel their stares as she walks on by them up to the door.

"You do know there's a line, right?" Some well-meaning stranger's voice jumps out at her.

To which she replies curtly, without turning around to see where the voice came from, "Yeah, I've got business here."

And the same voice responds, "What kind of business you got? I haven't seen you 'round here and I've lived here my whole life."

She ignores the question and makes her way through the old door made of wood and wire to keep out the bugs. The air inside the restaurant isn't much better than the outside, with only large fans on the high ceiling to keep the place cool.

She marches straight to the counter and, catching the eyes of somebody serving up food, demands to speak to somebody in charge. She notices the way their body tightens in response to her demand and she can tell that what they would much rather do is tell her to go to hell. She wastes no time caring what this person thinks of her, just repeating the mantra of _payday_ over and over again

(She needs the money, bad. Henry's counting on her and she doesn't want to disappoint him a second time, now that he's found her and they've started this tentative relationship.)

When the owner comes in from the back of the building, she immediately goes into what she calls pretend-law-enforcement mode. (She used to watch old cop shows back when she first got into the business, emulating their moves and picking up lines here and there.) She pulls out a photo of her target and passes it to the man. "I'm looking for this man. Have you seen him around?"

"No, ma'am. He hasn't passed through these parts." The man's eyes shift back towards the door, and _bingo_, she knows that there's no way he's going to hold out for long. But still, she likes to pull out the tough routine when she can, and this guy with his bushy grey beard and his dusty jeans probably wouldn't respond better to her more feminine wiles.

She lowers her voice, channeling her inner Clint Eastwood, "Now, here's where I tell you that I know you're lying to me. So we can do this the easy way, or I can just punch you in the face."

The man just shrugs and repeats, "Sorry, ma'am, I don't know him."

She hums and then, "Seems strange then, that he's the guy you hired two months ago to work your smoke pit out back."

She tilts her head, making eye contact and pauses, waiting him out.

She can see the moment he knows he's well and truly caught and continues, "Listen, he's wanted up in New York. It's my job to make sure he gets there unharmed."

Even though he's defeated, the older man's body straightens, tight as a drum and his eyes get a mean glint to them as he replies, "Well now, I don't know what this fella's done. But I tell you what, I've got a line a mile long out my door full of hungry people who want some of the best God damn barbecue in this great state. So you're just going to have to wait your turn."

_Damn stubborn men, _she thinks as she tries to shift her strategy, just a bit. She's just going to have to take what she can and to hell with the rest, so she bites out, "How about I talk to him while he works, see if I can't work something out?"

She doesn't wait for an answer, just stalks to the back door, and finding her way to the smoke pit, finally lays eyes on the target, there in between smokers, dark hair sticking up, arms bare, wearing an apron with the restaurant's logo.

She stops in her tracks, stunned for a moment because, even though she knew he was handsome from the photo that Gold gave her, nothing prepared her for just _how_ gorgeous he was in person. But, no matter, she's seen pretty faces before and nothing distracts her from her task at hand.

"Killian Jones?" She asks, and she can tell it catches him off guard. He's been using some ridiculous fake name. _James Hook_ her ass. Nobody should fall for that kind of crap, but of course, people do every day.

She can tell by the look in his eyes, he wants to run. But there's nowhere to go, not without passing by her, and she's got the upper hand, at least for the next few moments. And she has a Taser. (Which, honestly, is probably why he's just standing there staring at her.)

...

Killian sighs as he examines the woman standing in front of him. Long, blonde hair tied up off her neck, weapon in hand, and in a stance that says she's ready to run after him if he moves a muscle. Even though his body is twitching to run, he knows the futility of that path. He's resigned to the fact that Gold will never give up his vendetta. (And if he's honest with himself, he knows that he's just been biding his time before he makes his own move.) He has to admit, he's surprised that Gold sent a woman to do the job for him.

From the looks of her, she's not one easily charmed, but he'll be damned before he goes anywhere with her that involves facing Gold's asinine accusations and barely deserved violence.

He decides to play it as cool as possible, even though he knows on some level his fate was signed the moment he crossed paths with older man. He arches a brow at her and stops pretending to cover his accent. "So, you found me. Just what do you plan to do with me?"

He watches her body shift from one foot to the other before answering, maybe a ploy to make him wait, maybe uncomfortable, he hasn't quite been able to read her yet. She maintains the _don't fuck with me _glare the whole time as she say, "I plan to bring you to New York and get paid. That's it."

He wonders if she knows what their feud is even about. He wonder what Gold told her, how much he's paying her to travel all the way to east nowhere, Texas, just to find his arse. He wonders if he can appeal to a sense of justice, even though it's a shot in the dark. "Surely you care that I'm an innocent man?"

She shrugs, "I get paid to deliver people. That's it. Guilt or innocence is between you and your God. And the law."

He sighs again, as he realizes they are at a complete impasse. "But there's the rub, love, the laws not involved yet. Or at least, I assume that's the case since you're clearly from the good old United States of America and my supposed _crime_ took place far outside your jurisdiction."

He can see her hesitate, but in the end, words continue to do no good. "Like I said, I get paid for delivery. Whatever happens to you afterwards is not my concern."

He decides to say to hell with all of it and break out the charm, so he winks, and tries to sound seductive (or as seductive as possible when one's life is on the line.) "What if I made it your concern?"

Her eyes narrow, "I don't know what you think you can offer me. Nor do I understand just what, exactly, you're hinting at buddy. But here's a tip, you aren't as charming as you think you are."

_Bloody hell. _"Listen, I'm – "

But his words are cut off by the appearance of somebody much less appealing than the pretty blonde bounty hunter. He would recognize that voice anywhere, and he surely wants to curse the heavens that it showed up here.

"Well, well, look what we have here."

They're both startled by the voice that comes from behind her. Killian watches as Gold approaches them, coming at them slowly, dramatically, carrying his cane with the golden handle. He looks back at the pretty bounty hunter (he really should try to get her name at some point) as she looks down at her phone and curses. She throws the phone across the dirt and watches the glass shatter.

"You traced my phone, you fucking asshole?"

He's glad that he's not on the receiving end of that tone, but he's also quite concerned with how close Gold is to the smoke pit. He watches as Gold shrugs his shoulder at the woman before making his move. The slow deliberate gate he teased them with speeds into a run and a lunge, his cane raised, but before Gold reaches him, she intervenes, all avenging angel.

"Gold, are you insane?" She shouts, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from Killian, who is staring Gold in the eyes and can tell from his lack of verbal response that the answer to that question is a resounding yes.

He watches Gold turn back and get in her face, "Ms. Swan, you've done your job. You'll find the minute you arrive back in New York funds will be deposited into your account. The precise agreed upon amount, in fact. I always honor my deals."

She looks over at Killian, and he can only assume that she reads real fear in his eyes, because she grips the Taser and shifts her body, ready to make the move before she nods at him. "I don't know what the hell you did to piss him off this much, but you have to get out of here, right now, or you are dead."

That doesn't quite sit well with him, concerned about what will happen to her if she fails to meet Gold's bargain. "I can't just leave you here."

She's ready to make her move and he knows that she's just as angry at him for the situation they've found themselves in as she yells back at him, "Yes, you can."

He may make bad mistakes, impulsive mistakes, like the one that got him into this situation to begin with, but he'll be damned if another woman is punished by Gold for something that he's done. So he shakes his head at her and reaches out his hand. "Nope, not going to happen."

(She makes her move. Suddenly Gold is writing on the ground in pain and Killian's pulling on her arm and then they're running. Running running running until they find her car. He arches a brow at her, but she just shrugs, "He was tracking my phone, not my car. Trust me, there's no way he could rig this vehicle without my knowledge."

Surprisingly, he does trust her and they're off, speeding away. Thirty miles down the road; she looks over at her passenger. She assumed that he would be freaking out, but he's just grinning like a lunatic and asks her with that damn eyebrow arched, "What next, Ms. Swan?"

She realizes just how screwed she is and thinks, _well, Fuck_.)


End file.
